


(why can't you just be) Lonely

by Kandakicksass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Future AU, Interview, M/M, Post-Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kandakicksass/pseuds/Kandakicksass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years in the future, One Direction has officially broken up. With no contract to stop him, Harry decides to clear the air about a few things. Queue the downward (and eventually, possible upward) spiral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Where would you like to start?"

The man in front of her squirms a little in his seat, like he's uncomfortable, but he doesn't protest; just bites his lip and thinks for a minute. He's not the baby-faced darling he once was - he's a twenty-five year old man now and that has charms of its own - but he's not showing any of the confidence that he usually does. He looks like that frightened, awe-struck teenager he'd once been, and it's touching, if not disconcerting.

"I'm not really sure," he answers after a minute. She waits for him to continue, and speaks up when he does not.

"Well, how about you tell us why you're doing this interview," she suggests.

He shrugs and nods in agreement. "I thought it would be a good idea," he tells her slowly. "To get everything out in the open, clear the air a bit." He pauses, coughs, and adds, "And to get some closure, I think. Now that it's all over."

She nods, writes something down - her thoughts probably, since they're recording the actual session. "Now that One Direction is over," she clarifies, and some undefinable emotion crosses his face when he nods. "So now we have the end. In May of 2019, One Direction has officially split up. It's been nine years - can you believe it - but it's all really over. Zayn and Niall are both raising children, and Liam, Louis, and yourself are all exploring going solo, yeah? So, we know what's going on today. Why don't you, Harry, tell us how it all started?"

He nods again. "I'm not really here to talk about One Direction," he announces, which she knows, but it's easier to say it so it's in the recording, he thinks. "I want to talk about Louis and me."

"So instead of starting right at the beginning of X-Factor, why don't you start when you and Louis met?" It's a calm suggestion - she's not showing any of the signs of a bloodthirsty reporter, even though they both know that this will secure her career. Even so long after their debut, One Direction is still very much in the media's eye.

"We ran into each other in the loo, which I'm pretty sure everyone knows." Here, he gives this self-deprecating grin, though for what she can't tell. "We always were pretty obvious. I thought he was fit right when I met him, but Louis took a little bit longer to realize that he - you know, liked me. We were good friends from the off, of course. Spent all our time together, finished each other's sentences, all of that. We're both pretty clingy, so it wasn't even weird that we would hang all over each other."

"Sexuality wise, how would you describe yourself? You talk like it had been perfectly normal to like Louis right away, so you must have been comfortable with it. Just out of curiosity of course, you don't have to answer if you don't want."

"I probably consider myself pansexual, probably?" He winces at the repetition, cheeks going the slightest bit pink. "I like people, generally. I've never really thought about, oh, this is a girl, or this is a lad. Just, I like this person." She nods, accepting that, and continues.

"When did Louis figure out that he had... more than platonic feelings for you?" she asks him, cocking her head to the side.

He shrugs. "I don't know exactly when. Things didn't really change between us, but one day Louis kissed me while we were horsing around. It didn't seem weird - it felt perfectly normal, but from then on it was this unspoken agreement that we were together, and that we couldn't tell anyone. The boys knew, and our mums, but Louis didn't tell his sisters, and I probably wouldn't have told Gemma if she hadn't heard it from my mum first."

"But you were still... obvious about it?"

He nods again. "Everyone knew, we just never talked about it, never confirmed it. We'd joke about it, before Modest! got involved, but even then most people weren't entirely sure if it was just teasing. Management wasn't too thrilled about it, even on X-Factor, but the fans loved that Louis and I were so close, so they let it slide for a while. It wasn't until X-Factor was over and we were starting the Up All Night Tour that they started getting finicky about it, because the fans really got going with the whole Larry thing. Louis and I thought it was kind of cute and didn't see why the higher ups made such a big deal about it - we didn't take them seriously, you know?" He runs a hand through his hair - cut shorter and curling around his ears in a way that reminds the world of earlier in his career. "It was just who we were. Joking around was second nature to us, and having our hands all over each other was normal. The guys were touchy, too - it wasn't just us - but Management knew that we were together, so they were tougher on us. We just didn't listen for a while."

"You lived together around this period, didn't you?" she asks, sounding honestly curious for the first time.

"Yeah, for about a year. It was really nice, having a place where we could just hide and stay in bed together all day. I would make jokes about it sometimes, would tweet about it - I even remember doing an interview about it at some point. I remember saying that I didn't want to live with anyone else, real honest, and a little bit after that Management started talking about me getting my own place."

"I can imagine that didn't make you or Louis too happy."

He snorts. "No, it really didn't. I bought a place, and that appeased Management for a while, but I was still living with Louis, even if it just became another thing we didn't talk about. I didn't want to move out, wasn't interested in it at the slightest. Where would I go, to a lonely house filled with things I didn't care about? I really couldn't imagine living somewhere without Louis, which sounds ridiculous, I know, considering that I'd lived with my mum just a year before."

"When did Management's warnings start becoming more serious to you and Louis?"

He gets very quiet. "I'm not a very good actor, you know," he says dully, after a long pause. "So they wanted Louis to start lying more and more about it, because they knew no one would believe it if I'd tried to. The whole thing with Caroline in X-Factor handn't really worked out all that well, even though it started that whole playboy thing, and all the jokes about liking older women." He rolls his eyes, but he's a lot more hurt than he wants to admit. "But Louis has always been a better liar than me, and what was a few fibs on TV?"

"Then it got worse?" she prompts, looking at him instead of her notepad.

He rubs a hand over his face and nods. "They introduced Eleanor," he tells her, an undertone of bitterness lacing the words. "Lovely girl, really, but I kind of hated her for a while. They wanted Louis to "date" her, and she was very nice about it, don't get me wrong. She tried very hard to get along with everyone, and of course it wasn't her fault. Being Louis's beard was her job, but I hated her anyway, especially when her and Louis got the point where they were friends. It was hard enough when he would come home complaining about having to go out on "dates" with her, but it was a lot harder when he actually enjoyed spending time with her."

"You mentioned that she's a nice girl? If that's true, how did you manage to hate her?"

"I was jealous," he shrugs. "Angry, because I couldn't do the things with Louis that she did. That I had to stay at home alone while they got to be a couple in public. I wanted that for us, but our contract said we couldn't have it, so I just sulked for a really long time. Eventually I managed to force myself to realize that Eleanor was just doing her job and trying to make it as pleasant as possible. I apologized to her, but we never really became friends. We got along just fine, but there was always Louis between us, even if it wasn't romantic on her part."

"You had some beards as well, didn't you?" she asks, and he's noticed that she's put her notepad down.

He laughs outright at this question. "Sure, yeah. If you want to call them that. I had fake booty calls, and those memorable few weeks with Taylor Swift, but nothing serious. After Taylor then Kendall, Management just kind of gave up on giving me fake girlfriends."

"What happened with Taylor, if you don't mind me asking? Kendall as well."

"Well, Taylor and I got along fine at first, but she was a lot more dedicated to the whole fake relationship thing than I was. A lot of the fans figured out that I wasn't into it at New Years that year, when she told me to kiss her and I did and pretty much ran away. After so many of them knew that it was a press thing, I just didn't want to do it, and then Taylor and I would just fight about it all the time. She wanted to do her job - her management team was getting on her back about it too, though I never really figured out what she got from it. Eventually I just told her that I didn't want to do it anymore, and that it was stupid."

"And with Kendall?"

He grins wryly. "Kendall and I didn't really like each other at all, even from the beginning. Neither of us wanted to do it and we both essentially called it quits pretty fast."

"I read something online about you calling her boring. Was that really said?" she questions, picking up her notepad again.

"It was really said, yeah, or at least purposefully put out there. It needed to end for a better reason than 'we didn't want to in the first place and we hate each other.' Management would have had my head if I hadn't done something. So I said she was boring, played up the whole playboy thing, and off we went. After that, they gave up on giving me beards."

She writes a few things down, then puts her notepad back on the table between them. She's quiet, and he's not sure where to go from there, so he sits there and examines the small lounge-type room they're in while she gathers what she wants to know. After a while, she glances up and continues.

"So you were spared, but Louis and Eleanor kept dating."

He clearly doesn't want to talk about Eleanor, but it's a part of the story. An important part. "Yeah, they kept dating. Their public outings came less and less, especially after the whole Taylor Swift thing around New Year’s."

"I seem to recall that being an eventful week," she prompts, and he nods.

"Louis and I weren't in good shape that week. It was first really public thing I had on my end - and keep in mind, I'm not proud of this or anything, but Louis kind of got to see what it was like for me, watching him and Eleanor all the time. I hated it, though, because he took it worse than me." He glances down at his lap. "We were both pretty shite that whole week. We wore sunglasses to hide our eyes, because we'd both been crying a lot, and Louis was shitfaced for a lot of it. I was actually glad Eleanor was there for that."

"Why is that?" she asks, and Harry sighs.

"Some photos got leaked of her helping him walk out the back of a club, right? Well, that's what she did pretty much the whole time she was there. I can never thank her enough for taking care of him when I wasn't there to do it. It really sucked for both of us, though."

"Did that help you get over being angry with her?"

"A good bit, yeah. And I was never really mad at her. I just hated the situation. I always knew it wasn't her fault, but I hated that it was happening."

"Was there anything else happening around that time? Other than Louis and Eleanor?"

"Yeah," he says, happy to change the subject. "We'd already made our second CD and were working on Midnight Memories. We started working on the movie, and then planning the fourth CD... we were busy all the time. There was also the fact that Louis and I started spending more and more time apart. He was trying to avoid the fake engagement between him and Eleanor that Management was hinting at, so he started trying to stay away from me in public. He even asked me to move out, just to make them back off. I couch surfed for a while, mostly staying with whatever friend would let me crash with them - Ed, mostly. Nick, sometimes, and the other boys, of course. I spent a lot of time crashing with Niall."

"I suppose the time apart took its toll, then."

He nods and bites his lower lip, looking as if he's not sure where to go from there. "Yeah," he agrees, and doesn't say anything else for a minute. "I missed him, even when I was with him. Sometimes I would get online, surf Tumblr for what the fans thought, or for photoshopped pictures, or fanfiction - anything to make me feel better. But so many of them would talk about how they thought that Louis and I hated each other, and the ones who did believe that we were still together were starting to wonder if we hadn't broken up. Then I started to wonder if we'd broken up. After all, I barely got alone time with him, and in public he would barely ever look at me. Even kissing him felt weird, because he was so stiff all the time."

"But you still loved him?"

"I still loved him." They're both quiet for a minute. "I think we both just sort of gave up. Even after he and Eleanor "broke up," we didn't attempt to try and fix things - just accepted that our relationship was over. After a while, we started acting like friends again, but there was always a wall between us that we just couldn't get over. We both just let it happen, without saying a word. Maybe that was the problem, that we didn't talk - maybe we should have just talked about it." He rubs at his eyes. "But we didn't, and eventually we managed to act friendly for the fans, but it was just uncomfortable between us where it never had been before."

"Was that how it was for the rest of your time in the band?" she asks quietly, and he doesn't think he's ever met a reporter that actually seems to care about his story, about him.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, it was."

"Have you seen him since?"

He shrugs. "A few times. If anything, it's more awkward. We don't have the band to keep us together anymore. To Louis, I imagine I'm just... someone he used to know. Just another ex-lover, like we weren't even really important to each other. At least, he never gives me any hints otherwise, and I'm not bitter or upset about it, really. Just sad, because I still love him, I think. I still miss him, but I don't know if it's just him, or my memories of who he used to be - who we used to be, together. I still think that we would have worked out, if we'd just tried a bit harder."

She nods, and stops the recorder. "I think we can stop there," she says quietly. "Thank you, for taking the time to do this."

"It needed to be done," he replies, and stands, taking her hand to shake when she offers it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this is going at all, so please don't expect me to have this deep, well-thought out story happening here. Just enjoy the ride with me!

Harry Styles has his own life now. It doesn't seem particularly fulfilling, but he's got money and a budding solo career (even though he'd meant it when he'd said that he didn't ever want to do this without the boys). He behaves in the public eye and if he's lonely at night when he settles into bed, cup of tea in hand and TV turned down so low it’s only a distraction - well, that's his secret to keep.

He goes out to the pub with Liam still, and has dinner at Zayn and Perrie's. He sees them regularly, and Niall less regularly now that he and his girlfriend Nat have moved to Ireland. Harry's sad that he doesn't get to be there often, especially since he won't be able to be in their daughter Pam's life. He contents himself with Zayn's two children, Armand and Jaqui, and rarely if ever does he see Louis. It helps, the distance, and the fact that the for the past five years they haven't really been friends. He wouldn't know what to do if he did see him. He works with Ed on solo pieces and talks with Liam about agents and he sometimes, he almost convinces himself that there were only four members of One Direction, as cruel as it is, even in his own head.

After the interview, he lets himself into his small flat. After gaudy houses and grand penthouses, he's had enough of that sort of thing. It's nice to have a small place for himself, and he really doesn't need or want a lot of space. It's big enough that he doesn't feel suffocated, and that's enough for him.

To be honest, it's kind of bare. His mum says she hates it, like he's still living out of suitcases, but the only decorations up are the ones she's brought him when she visits, or the vases that Perrie got him as a housewarming gift. Sometimes, he gets some flowers to put in them, to make it seem more like he lives there, but most often they're as empty as his flat. He has a TV on the wall and a sofa, and his kitchen has some general cooking things. He has a guitar and a couple books, and a simple bed - a mattress with blue sheets on a frame.

He sets his keys on the kitchen counter, makes himself some cup ramen, and turns on the telly to drown out his mind.

He would probably have sat there on his couch indefinitely, watching shit programs and football reruns (he doesn't even like football), but his phone rings.

"'Ello," he grunts around a mouthful of ramen.

It's Liam. "You had that interview today, right?" is what he opens with, and it's a stupid question, because Liam has been the one coaching him through what he was going to say since he set it up two months ago.

"Yes, Li," he answers slowly after swallowing. "I had that interview today."

"And how, erm, how did it go?"

He closes his eyes, setting his noodles down and resigning himself to a long, sad conversation about his well-being. "It went just fine," he answers, and hears Liam huff on the other end.

"Did it really?"

"No," Harry replies, too-chipper, so Liam recognizes he's being mocked. "It was the best time of my life. A real eye opener." Once upon a time, it would have been friendly teasing, but it comes out with an edge that makes it sound a good deal more rude.

"Don't be a dick, Haz."

They both know it's become his defense mechanism, and Harry wonders when he picked that up. "Sorry. It was shit, you know that. Couldn't have been anything else. The journalist was nice enough, seemed to actually care, which was a first."

"So Larry Stylinson is officially out of the closet?"

"Yes, Li," he replies as patiently as he can. It's something he used to be a lot better at. "Also officially over." He bites his lip, and adds, "It may have come out a lot more sob-story than I'd intended."

"Well if it was Anna, the girl you said you'd set the interview up with, then she'll be nice about it. She'll probably glance over most of really embarrassing emotional bits."

"It was," he says absently, getting up to put his trash in the bin, and moves to the bed, resting his back against the wall. "Anna, I mean, from that online paper." It's more a blog, really, but it goes through official channels and has a reputation for being honest. "It'll be up to a month until they've got the article up, though, which is fine with me. I think I'm going to need some time to settle back into forgetting it had ever happened before the article goes up and brings back all the reporters and cameras."

"It's not like they ever left, Haz," Liam says quietly, and he's not wrong. There are probably a few stationed outside both of their flat buildings right now, waiting for them to go out somewhere. Even though One Direction has been over for three months, they're still headline news.

"You know, Li, I don't really want to talk about the interview. I talked for half an hour about my failed relationship. She's going to do with it what she wants, and then I'm going to have a hoard of heartbroken fans who are more involved in mine and Louis's relationship than we are."

"They just want you to be happy, Harry. And you were never happier than when you were with Lou."

"Well, they're going to be disappointed, aren't they?" he snaps, and he doesn't apologize this time.

"Do you want me to come over?" Liam asks quietly, and he immediately deflates.

"No," he says honestly, but tiredly. "We have dinner plans at Zayn and Perrie's tomorrow, yeah? I'll be fine till then." As an afterthought, he adds, "And please don't... tell them. About the state I'm in. I'll be fine, and Zayn can be a huge mother hen."

"Yeah," Liam sighs. "I promise. I won't tell them." He knows Liam well enough to take him at his word, and nods to himself. "Should I let you go then, mate?"

"I think I'm just going to go to bed," he says, and tries to ignore it when Liam sighs, that sound he makes when he's concerned but knows better than to say anything about it. "Goodnight, Li."

"Night, Harry."

He hangs up the phone and pretends that it doesn’t hurt when he knocks his head against the wall behind him as hard as he can, even though he’s seeing dark spots. He’s hoping the pain will help him sleep because the resulting headache is making it difficult to keep his eyes open.

Then he shakes himself and forces himself to quit moping. He hates being so down all the time, but no matter how firmly he tells himself to cheer up, he’s just not _satisfied_. Honestly, he misses touring, but most of all he misses how easy things used to be, before the great Management fuckup and Louis and when One Direction stopped being about the music for them and started being about trying to have a normal life around that.

The phone rings again.

“What is it, Li?” he sighs into the mic and Liam sighs right back.

“We’re having dinner at Z’s tonight,” he says hesitantly.

“We’re having dinner at Z’s tomorrow,” he tells him firmly. “I’m not being roped into this pity dinner. And did you tell Zayn about my mood? Like I specifically told you not to?”

“When did you start being so cynical, Harry?” Liam asks, sounding hurt, and Harry immediately feels guilty. “We only want to spend time with you – we want to be there for you. And no, I didn't explain to Zayn how shitty your mood seems to be." He's quiet for a bit. "I’m staying with them tonight; you should, too. Bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush, and we’ll stay up all night watching movies and pretending everything’s okay, if you want.”

“Liam…”

“Please. Harry. I know you hate trying to go through this alone as much as I hate watching it.”

He shuts his eyes tights and stands, keeping a hand on the bed to steady himself. He needs some pain meds, and walks slowly to the bathroom. “I’ll be over in forty minutes, okay?” he mutters, then tries to soften his voice because this is _Liam_ and he’s not supposed to be this bitter, sullen thing he’s turned into. “Just let me throw some things together and take a shower, yeah? Then I’ll be over. And less grumpy, I promise.”

“You don’t need to be less grumpy if your mood’s that shit,” Liam tells him, but his voice is warmer than before. “We love you regardless.”

“I know that, you softy,” he teases weakly, and it makes him feel a little better that Liam chuckles. “I’m getting in the shower, so I’ll see you when I get to Z’s. Love you, too.”

“All right,” Liam says agreeably. “See you in a bit.”

He hangs up and sets his phone on the bathroom counter. He swallows his pain meds and tries not to be reluctant about getting in the shower.

Somewhere deep down, he knows that this is a good thing. He’s lucky, damn lucky, that he and the boys hadn’t simply parted ways (for the most part). He’s got friends who give a damn about him and a promising career and a loving family, and he is _lucky_. It takes several deep breaths before he can smile to himself and let himself enjoy the hot water and the thought of spending time with two of his favorite kids tonight.

He’s not really happy, no, but he’s content, and for now that will have to be enough.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Arry!”

He dropped his bag in the entrance, kneeling down so he could swing the little girl into his arms. At almost four years old, she was a splitting image of Zayn with wide chocolate eyes and dark hair. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest; All of Zayn’s siblings looked alike, too. The genes were strong – but still, it didn’t stop Armand from having a shock of blonde hair like his mum, or her rosy cheeks. “Hello, Jaqui-bear,” he greeted her, making her grin up at him.

“Is that Harry?”

Perrie pops out of the kitchen, grinning widely like he wasn’t over for dinner or something at least biweekly. “Hello, Pezza,” he greets her, and goes forward and kisses her cheek, smiling when Jaqui does so as well. “What’s for dinner?”

“Nothing at all, you terrible man,” she chuckles. “Since you’re only here for the food. Come in - proper now. Take of your coat. ‘Mand, love, could you hang Harry’s coat up?”

Armand, who had been hiding behind his mother’s leg, gives Harry a gap-toothed smile and makes grabby hands for his coat. They all know “hanging his coat up” means dropping it in the hall somewhere, but Armand looks so pleased to be of use that nobody finds a problem with that.

“Li here yet?” he asks, and Perrie nods.

“Who else do you think is cooking?” she snickers. “I didn’t feel like burning things tonight, so he came over to debate with Z over what they should make. The end result was some barbeque fry-up. So they’re still out by the grill, and I’m stuck inside slicing meat into bite-sized portions to toss in with the vegetables.”

Harry tries to smile, but it feels a little forced. _Unusual, that_ , the more sarcastic side of his brain snorts. “Proper domestic,” he comments, and it sounds as pathetic as he probably looks. Neither of them choose to comment on the fact that their glory days are, before even their thirties, over.

God, Harry misses touring. His solo career is doing fine, but he’s never going to reach One Direction levels, and while Little Mix is still together, they don’t do a lot of touring, either.

“You don’t mind me staying here tonight?” he asks in a low voice, trying not to upset Jaqui in any way. She’s curled up with her head on his shoulder, precious thing, and honestly she looks like she’s nodding off.

Perrie smiles at him, but it looks a little sad. “Love, the fact that you have to ask is frankly depressing. You’re always welcome here.” She leans in, smiling at Jaqui and making her giggle. “Don’t we love having Hazza here with us?”

She nods against his neck, wrapping her slender arms around her. “You’re the best, Hazza.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you Jaq,” he answers, and he smiles at Perrie. “And thank you.”

“Always welcome,” she repeats, as if it needs to be said again. The sad part is that it probably does. “Now, come on. You’re the good cook, help me cook things.”

He follows, and lets her talk him into chopping more vegetables since they’re feeding an extra person, since he’s pretty sure Liam didn’t warn them that he was coming. Which was fine, since he could literally show up in the middle of the night and Zayn and Perrie were guaranteed to welcome him in and set him up in a guest room.

Jaqui, who is probably the most attached to Harry of all their friend’s kids, spends the time curled around his legs. When Zayn and Liam come in, they both coo at him.

“Absolutely precious,” Liam teases, and Harry just rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you came, H,” he adds quietly when he passes by.

“Li didn’t tell me you were coming! I didn’t expect you ‘til tomorrow,” Zayn greets him, smiling widely. He’s almost absurdly beautiful. Harry can only think of one person he finds more attractive.

He takes Zayn’s kiss on the cheek with as much grace as possible. “I didn’t know I was coming until forty minutes ago. Pez said she didn’t mind – but you don’t actually mind me staying tonight, either, right?”

“I’m sure Pezza also told you that you’re always welcome to crash here,” Zayn says with that same damn ‘I’m-so-happy-look-at-my-perfect-life’ smile.

He might be reaching a bit.

He sighs when Perrie giggles behind him. “She might have.” Zayn’s smile softens, and he grips Harry’s shoulder, rubbing it with his fingertips. God, he misses having someone to touch him. He’s always been tactile, but he doesn’t see a lot of people these days. He doesn’t even want to _try_ a relationship, so this contact with his friends is really all he has.

It’s moments like this where he really misses Niall and Louis. Not that Louis would be happy to be around him, but being all together is something he really misses.

“Dinner’s done,” he announces instead of giving voice to his aches. “Are we going to eat it, or just look at each other?”

So they gather around the table, and it’s all filled with pleasant chatter. Harry had once imagined a life like this, a happy family, his friends. On one hand, he’s glad he has what he does. On the other, it just makes him hurt, that lost future a physical pain.

Years later, and he’s still pining over Louis Tomlinson. Pathetic.

“You’re so quiet, Harry,” Zayn mentions at some point over dinner. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just stressing about my EP,” he lies with that same small smile. He usually can’t manage much more, which is okay, he thinks. He could, he reminds himself, have it much worse. “I’m a little unsure of how it’s going to go over. The world might be over One Direction, you know? They’ll see my EP and just go, ‘oh, look, it’s that boybander. Great, seen stuff like that a million times’ and then I’ll be like, the flipside of Justin Timberlake.”

Because he really is a little worried about the EP, but to be honest, it’s just easier to exaggerate things he’s only sort of concerned about if it gets his friends off his back about the things that are really bothering him. The things that really hurt him are the things he doesn’t want to expose his friends to. He doesn’t want Liam or Zayn to see how hung up he is, still. He doesn’t want them to see how bitter his or how he’s still stuck in the past. He would much prefer it if they still thought he was the happy go lucky boy he used to be.

But, just for now, Jaqui’s chirped “you’ll be okay, Hazza!” (though she really has no idea what he’s talking about) cheers him up, just a bit. He lets himself feel just a little bit of the happy-go-lucky, lets himself channel the honest hopeful enthusiasm that marked his early adulthood. Too young to be sad, and all that.

“Of course I will,” he agrees, and Jaqui gives him that beaming smile. And he will. Okay isn’t great, but it’s much better than miserable.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry.

Harry doesn't realize how deeply he’s stepped in it until he gets a phone call two days after the article goes live.

It’s a shitty time of the morning and Harry had an awful night, so he’s not at his most friendly when he answers the phone with a grumbled “’lo?”

He wakes up right quick when a low, angry voice snaps at him from the other end. “ _You fucking asshole_.”

He pulls his phone away from his ear slowly. He doesn’t recognize the number, but that’s probably because he changed it after the band ended. The other boys probably had it, but he’d never gotten around to asking for it.

Perhaps it’s sentimental that he’s touched that the other man still has his.

“What did I do this time, Lou?” he asks wearily, sitting up in bed. He’s not getting back to sleep after this anyway.

“ _The fucking article, you fucking –_ “ Louis cuts himself off with an angry sound. “ _I had to hear about it from fucking Twitter, going up in flames._ ”

Harry pales, realizing that no, he didn’t ever directly say anything to Louis about having done it. Slowly, he says, “I did tell you I was going to do it.”

“ _Yeah, four months ago, when the band ended! This is my life, too, Harry! You fucking dick. I have thousands of twitter mentions freaking the fuck out and El is getting so much shit – you are so lucky I told my agent the truth about this before this otherwise I would_ literally _rip you a new one. You should have told me you were going to do it so I could be prepared when the article went up!”_

“I’m sorry, Louis.”

“ _I frankly do not give a rat’s tit if you’re fucking sorry. I had to explain this to my agent, and why_ I _didn’t know it was happening. My mum flipped shit – god, you owe my mum an apology; she’s been hounded by the media twenty-four seven.”_

Harry doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he hasn’t seen Jay in any sort of personal capacity in three years, and the last time she’d seen him, the pity in her face had made him run and hide in a back room at a party. Because she _knows_ that he’s still in love with Louis, and –

Fuck. Now Louis does, too.

He’s shaking, and debates just hanging up, but he’s never been the one to cut off communication between them. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I am sorry. I didn’t think. When we first set it up, I tried to get ahold of you, but you changed your number. I assumed it meant you didn’t want to talk to me, and then I assumed that one of the boys would have mentioned it to you.” He pauses, but before Louis can go off again, he adds, “I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble, Louis.”

“ _You never_ mean _to cause any trouble_ ,” Louis says tightly. “ _But Lottie won’t talk to me and Fizzy is trying to pretend it doesn’t bother her that I lied to her and she had to hear it from the media. Eleanor wasn’t prepared at all, and now she’s being hounded, too!”_

That, Harry feels awful for. He really didn’t intend to cause trouble for the girls or Eleanor. Friends or not, she didn’t deserve backlash for his decisions.

In spite of the awful situation, Louis’ voice is a balm to the aches underneath his skin. Even angry, Harry’s body is attuned to the calm and safety Louis used to represent.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, in a tiny voice that he hates. He simultaneously loves and hates how small Louis can make him feel, like he’s a sixteen year old again hitting the high notes in Gotta Be You.

“ _You’re going to be fucking sorrier_ ,” Louis hisses harshly, and he flinches automatically. “ _Open your fucking door, Harry._ ”

He startles, looking up at the hallway, beyond which there is suddenly a banging on his front door. He stands automatically, programed to want to do what Louis says – and then he just stops, fear spreading through him. He’s not ready to see Louis again. Not ready and not capable of holding it together when he leaves again. He almost hides in his closet and covers his ears with headphones until Louis leaves.

“ _If you think I won’t knock your door down you’re sorely mistaken,_ ” Louis says in this low, cold voice he’d only ever used on asshole reporters and the people who would talk shit about Harry in crowds. “ _You better be walking toward the door right now_.” It’s kind of hard to hear him over the banging, but Harry takes the words as the warning they are and gets his ass in gear.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when, the moment the door is fully open, he’s decked in the face. He stumbles backward and curls in on himself, arms flying up to protect his face – only to defend and never to attack.

He could never lay a _hand_ on anyone, but especially not Louis. His phone clatters to the ground.

“You fucking deserve that,” Louis says, voice clear and _there_ , so close that if Harry wanted to get decked again he could reach out and hold him.

But god, Harry has missed him. Louis isn’t looking his best – his eyes are red-rimmed and his wrists are so thin, collarbone sticking out in his scoop neck shirt. He’s twenty-seven but looks younger, so much smaller with these expressive, furious eyes. He’s still so beautiful that Harry wants to hide himself so Louis can’t see how disgusting he’s gotten, how messy his hair is, even though Louis has seen it all before.

“Hi,” he says weakly, still as in awe as they day they met.

“Hi,” Louis responds, looking so troubled and imperfect and gorgeous. “We need to talk.”

It doesn’t escape Harry’s notice that while he’s still the same lovestruck boy he was at sixteen, the gentle warmth of eighteen-year-old Louis’ eyes is no longer his to have.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I s u c k

Louis looks so fragile, sitting in Harry's armchair with his thin fingers wrapped around a tea cup.

"You're not going to hit me again, are you?" Harry asks wearily, sitting on the couch closest to him. "Because I have promo stuff coming up and my agent is going to kill me if I have more bruises."

"I'm still debating," Louis mutters, but he sips at his tea without complaint. "I am still so pissed."

"I gathered that," Harry sighs. "I don't know what else to do about it, though. I've already apologized. I don't know what else I can do."

"You could go back in time and tell me you set up the article," he snaps, but deflates a moment later. "I just... Jesus, Harry. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I did try. I called, but you changed your number. After that I just got uncomfortable with the idea of talking to you after so long, and I figured that it was maybe for the best. I realize I fucked up here. I assumed that just because I mentioned I'd do it back in May meant that you'd remember it now. I didn't think about how it would affect your family or  anything - I wasn't trying to start trouble when I set up the interview."

Louis narrows his eyes, scrutinizing his expression, but the end result is another sigh. "I know that. It doesn't make it alright - but I do know that. You're not a cruel person. But -" His eyes soften, mouth twisting in confusion. "What do you mean, you were uncomfortable with the idea of talking to me?"

"You changed your number, Louis," he whispers, on the edge of incredulous, volume and pitch rising as he continues to speak. "You changed it and didn't give it to me, which seemed kind of like you didn't want to talk to me. Which, I get. Okay? I do get it. It's not like we've really spoken in like, two years. I understand that our relationship is fucked up and that we probably won't ever change it. So, just forgive me if I don't want to subject myself to an awkward, forced conversation when I know you don't care about me anymore."

Louis gapes at him until Harry’s words seem to register – then, his mouth tightens and his eyes narrow into slits of furious cerulean. He sets his tea on the coffee table and leans in to hiss, "Don't you ever fucking say that to me. Don't you ever say that I don't care about you. You always fucking do that, assume that the only one who feels things in this relationship is you, but it's not. I have emotions, too, Harry!"

"I never said you didn't, but - this isn't a relationship! It hasn't been for three years! And you -" He breaks, far too soon into this conversation. "It wasn't your fault. We just didn't work, but I don't want to talk about us or what went wrong. Why did you come here, Louis? If you could berate me, you could have done it over the phone. So why are you here?"

Louis shut his mouth tightly, clearly struggling with what he wanted to answer. Harry waited - for a brush-off, to be told that Louis had only wanted to punch him.

"I wanted to see you," Louis says at last, and it's vulnerable and frankly painful - for both of them, he's sure. “It’s been – you’re right. We haven’t really talked in so long. And, I’ve been looking into music again, and it’s been nostalgia, I guess.” He bites his lip, and continues before Harry gets over gaping at him in shock. “You’re right, that we just didn’t work, but we were best friends. And you pissed me off, and I wanted to _punch you in the face_ , but I still didn’t want to just yell at you over the phone. It’s so impersonal, and that’s not us.”

“Look where being _personal_ got us,” he tries to snap, but it comes out so weak it’s barely a viable argument. “And I still don’t know what you want from me,” he adds. His voice is sotired and hoarse it barely sounds like him. This, he reminds himself, is what Louis does to him. Since they stopped working, _louisandharry_ is just destructive for both of them. He tries to make it stick, since his brain and his heart don’t always seem to get the memo.

Louis’ face twists up like he can’t believe what Harry said, and then he stands up, shoving his hands into his pockets like they offended him – when really, Harry can see them trembling, his entire body vibrating with the need to get up and run far, far away.

He can relate.

“I don’t know either,” Louis spits. “Because clearly we just _don’t_ work anymore, even as friends.”

Later, Harry won’t be able to say what the breaking point was; if he was already there, or if Louis’s words pushed him there. He just lets out this wet sound, and then before he realizes it’s happening, he’s fighting back tears. and he’s shaking so badly he has to set his own tea down before he drops it.

He hears gentle shushing, and then the couch dips next to him and Louis’ arms are coming around him, pulling his head into Louis’ neck like he used to do when they would lay in bed together and just breathe and trade sleepy kisses. The thought makes him shudder. “I’m _sorry_ ,” Louis whispers into his hair, like he can take back three years of pain.

It’s finally too much. “Please, just leave, Louis. I just –“ _we fell apart, but I never stopped wanting to fall back together._ He looks up at him through glossy eyes, and Louis looks conflicted but not, like Harry, pining for the love they lost. “I keep thinking that you’re still _my_ Louis, because you look just like him, and you talk like him. But, Lou, you’re a _stranger_. Doesn’t that bother you, that we’re practically strangers?“ Because he’s a wreck without Louis, but it’s starting to look like he’s going to be a wreck with him, as well.

Louis lets out this huge breath and leans back against the couch. “We really fucked this up, didn’t we?”

Harry closes his eyes and nods. “God, Lou. Nothing’s been the same since we – you know.”

Louis doesn’t verbally respond, but when Harry opens his eyes, Louis is nodding slowly. “That’s another reason why I came today,” he admits softly, and peers over at Harry when he stops breathing for a moment. “Liam invited me to dinner at Zayn’s next week, and I figured, if I was going to yell at you about the article and demand an explanation, I might as well ask if it would be weird for you. Since, every time you see me, you abruptly get all quiet and awkward. And Liam says you _always_ go to dinner at Zayn’s together, so. I didn’t want to interrupt that, or _intrude_. I just – I didn’t know if you would want. To be around me, I mean.” It’s been a long time since he’s heard Louis so flustered, but it’s not the cute stammering of their early days. This is painful and awkward and unsure, like he doesn’t know Harry at all.

Harry swallows. “You’re still a part of One Direction, Louis. You’re not intruding. God, we used to be best friends, the five of us. I’m not going to ask you to not come, not ever.” When Louis opens his mouth, most likely to protest, he glares and cuts him off. “No. Look, it might be awkward. But, it’s weird not being all together. I can sacrifice a little comfort if I get to make up for some of the missing pieces in all of our lives.”

Louis nods, and finally takes Harry’s order to heart and stands up to leave. He looks down at Harry with these sad eyes Harry will never be able to erase from his memory. “I hope we can at least – I want to be friends, Harry. At least.”

He bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he nods for Louis’ sake.

“Bye,” he hears, but he doesn’t look up again until the door shuts behind Louis. Then, he puts his face in his hands and sits there for a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

He’s twenty-three minutes and forty-five seconds late for The Dinner. It wasn’t necessarily on purpose, but to be honest, he wasn’t exactly rushing to get out the door. So what if he took a little longer on his hair than he usually does nowadays, or if he double checked his outfit three times to make sure everything semi-matched?

(Liam is guaranteed to tease him when he sees the effort Harry has put into his appearance.)

So, yeah, it’s not surprising that Zayn opens the front door with a do-not-fuck-with-me expression and narrowed eyes, before he blinks once and then slowly raises one perfect eyebrow. "You are late, Styles. I'm assuming you got held up at the salon?" His lips quirk into a little smirk when Harry glares.

"I was going to apologize, but I'm not feeling it now," Harry grumbles, and Zayn rolls his eyes before he lets him in. He slips his coat off his shoulders and hangs it on the coat rack to the left of the front door. "I am sorry," he murmurs when he lets it go a moment later. "I just -"

"I get it, H," Zayn murmurs back, entirely too understanding. "Just - c'mon. The kids were crushed when you weren't here on time."

Harry groans, loudly. "You're such a dad, Zayn. When did we all become middle-aged men?"

"We're not even thirty, you drama queen," Zayn laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Quit having your mid-life crisis. Put it off for a few more years." It's in the middle of this sentence that they slip into the dining room, and immediately he has an armful of dark-haired little girl.

What's unusual is that Armand is right behind her. He isn't usually so attached, but when he spots Louis grimacing at the table, he realizes why. Armand is so shy that unfamiliar people make him run for the nearest source of comfort. Harry is much more familiar than Louis, and god, that hurts somewhere deep inside. That Zayn's fucking children feel that they don't know Louis, when he was such an integral part of their lives for so long.

"Hello, loves," he soothes, and lifts Armand into the air. A child on each hip, he turns a smile on Perrie, then Liam, and finally, a more hesitant one on Louis.

"Hi," Louis mouths, and he nods in return before pressing a kiss to each of the kids' heads.

"We thought you weren't comin'," Jaqui pouts against his shoulder, and he makes a face, guilty. "I was so sad."

"You only saw me last week, Jaqui-bear," he murmurs, trying to cheer her up. "I'm sorry I was late. You, too, 'Mand."

"S'kay," Armand manages, but he's much more interested in playing with Harry's loose curls.

"We saved you a seat," Jaqui says, because she is of course involved in anything anyone does. "Right by Lou-Lou."

Harry's heart seems to beat louder, his entire body tensing, but he manages a small smile. "Lou-Lou, huh?"

"He said we could call him Lou," Jaqui says, nodding firmly. "Lou-Lou is cuter. Mummy said so."

"And Mummy is always right," he agrees readily. He goes around to put both of them in their seats, then walks back around and takes his seat at Louis' left, right across from Perrie. "Sorry I'm late, Pez. Dinner looks delicious."

"It is," she tells him with narrowed eyes, but then she glances between him and Louis and sighs. It's good to know no one is going to be subtle about it, he thinks with a furrowed eyebrow.

"Definitely is," Louis says from beside him, sounding a little uncomfortable. His head is bowed, focusing wholly on picking apart his roast, and Harry wants to reassure him somehow. He also doesn't want to start another emotional conversation in the middle of dinner, so he resists.

"Only missin' an Irishman now," Liam comments, and the tension breaks a little.

"And missing him we are," Zayn hums wistfully. "Doesn't feel quite right without that little fuck. Haven't seen him since the baby was born."

"Me, either," Harry agreed, frowning. "Sometime soon we need to fly him and Nat and the little one over here. Before Christmas, maybe."

"I've seen him," Louis offers quietly, and they all turn to him. "I mean - I missed him. And the band. And at the time... It seemed easiest to go visit Niall. Than intrude here, I mean."

It's an unnecessary confession, but they've never been good at holding back. Harry immediately feels guilty again, and has to forcibly remind himself he's not the only one at fault for this fucking canyon between them.

"Fuck," Liam groans, and Perrie slaps his shoulder with a glare and hisses 'children, Payne.' "I've texted you about it at least once every two weeks since May."

"You could have come," Harry says, quietly enough that Louis is the only one who can make out what he's saying.

Louis looks over at him, tuning out the rest of the lads. His eyes are such a bright blue that Harry thinks he must have forgotten their color to be so surprised by it now. He opens his mouth, lips still as pink as they day they met, and then shuts it again abruptly. He looks down at his food and shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Harry looks away as well, disgruntled and suddenly uncomfortable because he had thought that if anyone would be making this weird, it would be him. Louis' awkwardness just makes him itchy and discontented.

Zayn and Liam are trading glances, but Harry just glares at them with a very clear message - do not. Say. Anything. They don't, bless them, but they do roll their eyes and Liam aims a raised eyebrow at Louis. Who is still focused elsewhere. On his food. Which isn't doing anything except exist.

Dinner is exactly as uncomfortable as he thought it would be, but strangely enough, it didn't feel wrong. Not as wrong as it was when it was just him, Li, and the Maliks. The river between he and Louis isn't enough to make him forget that they all belong together in some way.

He doesn't make it five minutes of sitting around in the living room with a grimace while everyone else discusses watching a film before he's standing out of the armchair he was in and rubbing the back of his neck when the boys look up at him. Perrie is amusing the kids, but he can tell by the angle of her head she's listening. "I'm going to go, lads," he says weakly, and watches Louis' face contort with a grimace. Liam's lips turn downward, and even though Zayn's expression is perfectly neutral, Harry can see exactly what he's thinking in his dark eyes. "Gotta early morning tomorrow."

"Lie," Perrie interjects calmly, still fussing with Armand's shirt sleeve, as he appears to have decided that shirts of for losers. He flushes under the scrutiny

"C'mon, Harry," Liam croons. "We'll watch a Disney film with the kids. Nothing wrong with a little Gingerbread House in the evening!" He glances down at their own little Hansel and Grettle, then back up at Harry.

"Love that film," Louis chimes in, and yeah, Harry knows that. He's the one who bought it for him the moment it had come out, just months before they broke each other's hearts.

"I don't -"

"Stay." Louis is reaching a hand out to pat the cushion beside him on the couch - prime real estate for movie-watching, as Harry knows from personal experience.

"Sit down, Haz," Zayn instructs him with that neutral stare, like he knows that Harry will listen to him. "We're watching the bloody film."

"Zayn." Perrie fixes him with a glare, but to be honest, Harry doesn't care about what's going on with them because he's automatically taken the seat next to Louis that he'd indicated was Harry's for the taking. It's strange, how weird it doesn't feel to not be wrapped around each other. There are days when Harry wants nothing more than beautiful twenty-two year old Louis to plop into his lap so Harry can hold him, but this Louis is different. He doesn't feel that need to touch his skin, and frankly, he can't imagine doing so.

It's a sobering thought.

So they watch Gingerbread House, and at some point Jaqui crawls into his arms and rests against his chest until she's half asleep, barely paying any attention to the film. Armand is sprawled across Perrie and Zayn's laps, head resting in the crook of Zayn's arm, feet dangling somewhere over Perrie's thighs. When the film is over, he congratulates himself on not letting his anxiety ruin it, and he puts Jaqui to bed with a load of kisses against her face. Louis is watching from the doorway, waiting for him so they can talk, as Jaqui manages some giggles, but she's already well on her way to passing out, and she's too out of it to even reply to his soft goodnight.

"Thanks for putting her to bed," Zayn says as he passes Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. He'd put Armand to bed, and when they return to the living room, Liam says his goodbyes. Perrie is dozing on the loveseat she and Zayn had comandeered for themselves, and Zayn rouses her so they can head to bed. "You two need to sort some shit out, I'm assuming. So just, lock up when you leave? I know you have a key, Haz. If we get broken into because you forgot, I will charge you for whatever is stolen."

"Understood," he drawls slowly, mostly because Zayn will glare at him until he responds, and he knows it. He turns a weary eye on Louis when the room is empty except for them.

"This could have gone worse," is what Louis opens with, and it's not a ringing endorsement, no. He nods instead of saying that. "I didn't mean to get weird over dinner."

"You're always weird," he says reflexively, like they're still best mates giving each other shit driving from once city to another, living in each other's pockets to the point that nothing anyone says is really offensive.

Louis seems to understand, because he huffs a laugh. "You know what I mean, dickweed."

"Yeah." They're quite shit at talking to each other, and they both know it. "I'm gonna head home."

"Me too," Louis agrees weakly, and Harry pauses, then holds his hand out for the most awkward handshake he's ever initiated.

He offsets it when he murmurs, "It was good to see you, Louis." Louis bites his lower lip and glances from their hands up to his face, and some of the tension leaks from his shoulders.

"You, too, man," he returns, and his smile is a little more genuine. "Zayn invited me to dinner next Thursday - if you're going to that? If that's not weird."

"I think tonight shows we can handle a little weird. I mean it, Louis. It's better with you here." His smile is self-deprecating. "I'm not sure I'm very good at this whole solo thing. I'm used to dragging a whole band with me everywhere I go. It feels better when we're all there.”

“Agreed.”

When they leave that night, it feels like a truce has been struck up between them, and it’s a relief. He knows that Louis hasn’t quite forgiven him for the article, and some part of him is still holding a grudge for a bunch of shit that isn’t their faults – but at least Louis is in his life. It’s all he really wanted in the first place.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter how unlikely the Zerrie wedding is starting to look....
> 
> what can I say. I'm a dreamer.

“Thank you again, Harry.” Zayn's tone is practically reverent, handing him a bag full of snacks and movies. “I swear to god, we said the word ‘babysitter’ and Jaq tripped over herself to demand that you do the job.”

Harry’s expression is a little deadpan when he replies, “I’m sure,” but that’s probably because Jaqui has somehow wrangled herself onto his back. Her brother is wrapped around Zayn’s leg, but he’s got a hand out, fisted in Harry’s trackies, too. “Are you sure you have to go? For three days? Little Mix doesn’t need _both_ of you for three days, does it?”

He’s pouting a bit, and Armand giggles. From where he’s chewing on Zayn’s knee.

“I’m going to be supportive of the girls’ show, and we’re staying the three days in LA as an early Christmas present to Pez,” Zayn says firmly. “And you agreed to this.” His face softens. “My children love you, Haz.”

“Hazza,” Jaqui chirps in his ear, and he gives up, turning his head to smile at her profile, her chin on his shoulder. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the nickname until Zayn’s kids had inadvertently picked up on it.

“I love them too,” he admits, and he can feel Jaqui smile against his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for dropping them on me.”

“You agreed. A _week_ ago.”

“Irrelevant.” He grins at Zayn, who rolls his eyes and leans down to hand Armand off to Harry. “Love you, see you in three days.”

“Love you too, Haz,” Zayn returns. “Three days.” Then he's gone with kisses and more I-love-you's, and Armand is sobbing in Harry’s arms.

“You’re a big baby,” Jaqui grunts, but she’s giggling against his skin. Harry sighs, leaving the bag of essentials by the door, and walks into the kitchen so he can let Jaqui drop down onto it, then rubs Armand’s back as he wanders into the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he murmurs. Armand nods into his shoulder, but he’s still crying. “Your mummy and daddy will be back in three days. And till then, you get to spend time with your favorite uncle Hazza!”

Unsurprisingly, Armand cries for another fifteen minutes. Harry eats a banana and listens to Jaqui tell him the history of her Barbie doll, which she must have dug out of the essentials bag. Harry wishes he could be annoyed, like a normal person, but really, he isn’t. At all. He waits for Armand to calm down, then asks if he wants to help Harry with dinner. He won’t be very helpful, but it makes the boy smile.

During dinner, Jaqui gets inquisitive, but it’s nothing new. She’s not at Harry’s flat very often, so when she is, she’s always full of questions. Like, why they’re just having cheese tortillas for dinner. (Because he couldn’t do anything else with Armand attached to him.) Or why he cut his hair back to his chin. (Because watching it grow is part of why long hair is so satisfying. He looks like a nineteen year old with his baby face, but it’ll be worth it when it’s to his shoulders again.) Or, “Hazza, why is dinner so early?”

Honesty is the best policy, after all. “Because I’ll forget to make it later.”

“Okay.”

A long pause.

“Why don’t you like LouLou?”

Naturally, he’s in the middle of taking a drink of water when she asks, and promptly spits it out. Armand giggles. Jaqui makes a face and says _ewww_ under her breath. Ah, to be young again. “Why would you ask that? Also, why do you think I don’t like Louis?”

She shrugs, taking a bite of her tortilla. For god’s sake, she’s barely four. Not nearly old enough to be so observant, he thinks grimly. “You don’t look very happy when LouLou visits,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “I was just wonderin’. Mummy says it’s cause you got bad blood. Are you sick? Does being sick make you not like him?”

Harry wants to facepalm. Desperately. “It’s not that I don’t like Louis, love. We were best friends, once.” He doesn’t quite want to explain that he was head over heels in love with Louis for over six years of his life. (He’s not sure he ever fell out of love, to be honest. He doesn’t want to say that, either.) “We just don’t really understand each other anymore.” He shrugs back at her, ignoring her pouty expression. “It doesn’t mean you can’t like him, sweetheart.”

“I like LouLou,” she announces, and he smiles a little awkwardly. Really, he’s glad. Louis _should_ be in these kids’ lives. In time, Harry hopes Louis is around enough to become ‘Uncle Lou,’ though he knows that day will be a long way off.

All in all, Harry should be less shocked than he is when Louis is giving him an awkward smile from his front door half an hour later. “I got a call from a little girl telling me that you hurt yourself,” he says weakly at Harry’s dumbfounded expression. His head swings around at Jaqui, who is grinning widely at him like she’s won the lottery. He hadn't realized he'd left his phone out.

“Jaqui Komal Malik,” he growls, and he hears a giggle as she disappears behind the couch. He sighs, and turns back to Louis. “We were just watching Cinderella, if you…?”

“I can –“ Louis gestures vaguely down the hall, looking pained. “Go. If you…”

“Hi, LouLou,” Armand whispers, and they both look down at him. He’s gazing up at Louis with huge eyes. Harry hadn’t even heard him come over.

He smiles, even if it is small. “Please,” he says, unintentionally warm. “Come in, Lou- _is_.” He still isn’t sure how comfortable he is using the nickname and hastily corrects it, but his tone does the work for him. Louis’ shoulders relax and he lets Harry usher him inside.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” he murmurs, smiling slightly as Armand “leads” them back toward the couch, where they’d been camping out.  “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?”

“You can’t leave,” Jaqui announces happily, and Louis turns a blank smile on Harry before dissolving into laughter at Harry’s alarmed expression.

“You heard her,” Harry says with a nod toward Jaqui. She’s bouncing on a couch cushion, looking more pleased than he’s ever seen her. “You have to stay, LouLou.”

When the movie gets started again, Harry is sitting with Jaqui enfolded in his arms. Louis is next to him on the couch, and Armand has (hesitantly) crawled into Louis’ lap. He looks a little awkward, but as the movie continues, Armand relaxes and so does Louis, who just wraps his arms around the little boy and cuddles.

Louis leans into Harry’s side for a moment. “For the record, I said they could call me Lou. LouLou was Pezza’s fault.” He doesn't sound too put out about it. 

Harry laughs into Jaqui’s hair, and _finally_ , just for a little bit, the wall between them disappears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of this event will be in the next chapter. :)


	8. Chapter 8

The hour or so that the movie lasts is the most comfortable Harry has felt around Louis in quite a while. The last time had been their last-ditch weekend away from the boys back in early summer 2016, where they had fallen into sync so effortlessly only to realize upon leaving that so long as the rest of the world existed, they could not. Harry doesn’t just enjoy it; he _revels_ in it. Children curled on their laps with Disney films in the background – that was, and is, essentially his favorite daydream. His hopes for the future.

It’s strange to admit to himself that his daydream hasn’t included Louis in a long time. He hadn’t been able to make it fit, not after at least early 2017, after he’d really given up on making them work even though they’d been broken up for months.

Still, it’s comfortable. He doesn’t like the way his thoughts are slowly easing Louis back into them, into his daydreams and his every day plans, but at the same time, it feels like a slice of normality returned to him.

Jaq begs them to watch “the princes movie!” and Louis lights up, so Harry can’t really refuse. Granted, Princes is his favorite movie, so really, it’s not much a surprise. He’s just relieved when it doesn’t feel as weird as he thought it would, watching it with Louis there. He’d almost obsessed over it after the breakup, because it had been one of the few things they would sit down and watch together without arguing.

It’s actually just nice, like closure. So they watch Princes, and Louis and Harry pretend not to notice the other mouthing the lines.

“The curly one looks like you, Hazza,” Jaqui hums, trying to stifle a yawn. He nods against her hair, and she doesn’t speak again until the Princes share their true love’s first kiss and the movie ends. “I don’t want to go to bed,” she grouses, but lets him stand and set her on her feet.

“No choice,” he replies cheerily, and looks over at Louis, who is nervously staring down at Armand, who is asleep in his arms. “Could you carry him to bed for me?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. He cradles the boy in his arms, expression softening when Armand nuzzles into his chest. He stands and follows Harry toward the spare bedroom.

“Shouldn’ we brush our teeth?” Jaqui yawns, but the minute they get into the bedroom she practically collapses on top of the low-raised bed.

“We’ll brush ‘em double tomorrow morning,” he says in reply, pressing a kiss to her temple. He watches Louis carefully set Armand down, and then goes over to give him a kiss as well. “Night, loves.” He ushers Louis out of the room and turns off the light before he goes.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen them since they were like, infants.” Louis grimaces. “I don’t even think I’ve seen Armand since his birth. No wonder they were so weird around me.”

He gives Louis a crooked smile and doesn’t comment. “Want a drink?”

“Yes _please_.”

Louis knocks his drink back like a proper alcoholic. Harry doesn’t like the comparison and immediately puts it out of his mind.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Harry adds, gently as he can. “Those are two of the most loving kids on the planet.” He pauses, then grins (probably a little dopily). “They get it from their dad.”

“I just feel bad that I was never there,” he mutters, but sits down at the kitchen table and sighs, looking up at Harry with those huge blue eyes that so rarely looks this innocent. “I mean, I know why. You know why. We all know why. But I basically suck.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and sits down with him. “You don’t suck, Louis. Everyone knows why you haven’t been around, and the kids are so young. They get attached easily. Stick around, and it’s not going to matter.”

“It does, though, to me.” He shrugs, but offers a small smile. “You’re good with them. You’ve always been good with kids.”

“So have you.”

“We were better together,” he snorts. “You’re too soft, and my punishments are often seen as cruel and unusual. We balanced each other out.” When Harry is silent, Louis looks up and realizes what he said. “ _Shit_.”

“Just –“ Harry takes a deep breath. He honestly hadn’t been expecting that. “- Give me a minute.”

He stands, and steps out onto his balcony, even though it’s _freezing_ outside. He’s not alone for more than a minute when the door slides open behind him.

 “When did things start going downhill?” Louis asks, staring off into the sky, his voice chattering a little. When he glances over, Harry can see his breath steam the air. “Between us, you mean.” It’s like he doesn’t remember the way they had skirted around this conversation the first time before they had quietly fallen apart.Apparently, they were waiting to have it now. Three years later.  

“I dunno,” he answers dully, running a hand through his thick curls. “Maybe about the time you started ignoring me when I sang to you.”

Louis clenches his eyes shut tight, rests his elbows on the railing and covers his eyes with his palms. “You know it wasn’t about that.”

“I know. I knew it then, too. It still hurt, to turn and sing to you and watch you look anywhere but me. You started avoiding me even when we were allowed to be friendly in public, and then I got so scared of wrecking whatever we still had that I didn’t say anything about it.” He shrugs, and when Louis doesn’t move, he sighs. “Why do we always do this?”

Finally, Louis looks over at him. “Do what?”

“Every time we see each other!” He throws his hands up, but it’s more to be dramatic. His voice isn’t raised, and he’s not angry. “We always end up debating about what went wrong in our relationship.” He rolls his eyes. “I do that enough on my own, and I’m guessing you probably do, too. I’m sick of seeing you, getting optimistic, and then getting depressed.”

Louis blinks, some of his upset melting off his face, and then he laughs. It sounds surprised, but it is a laugh. “You are – you’re right.” He rubs his face with a hand. “We’re different people now. Still Louis and Harry but, not _… LouisandHarry_. We really just need to start over, don’t we?”

Harry bites his lip, then holds a hand out. “Hi. I’m Harry.”

Louis glances down at his hand, reaches out to take it, and then laughs and pulls away. “Okay, no, maybe not start all the way over.” Harry grins, because he understands. Too much history – too much to just pretend it never happened and _way_ too much to jump back in and pretend the hurt didn’t mean as much as it had.

Louis knocked shoulders with him when they returned to starting at the sky in the cold. His teeth were still chattering, but he was grinning. Harry ducked his head and kept his smile to himself.

 


	9. Chapter 9

He had managed to avoid social media for a couple weeks, but even he wasn’t under the impression it’d last forever. He’s now kind of wishing he’d just deleted everything.

_I fucking knew it. @Harry_Styles, why didn’t you tell us sooner? Thanks for sparing the heartache._

_@Harry_Styles im still freaking out. Didn’t realize you were a fucking ***_

_@Harry_Styles @Louis_Tomlinson Get back together! You’re soulmates you dorks, you’re meant to be together_

On and on and on, alternating between supportive, abusive, and begging them to date again. He had millions of mentions, each more stricken than the last, until he set down his phone and just ran his hands through his hair over and over again, trying to calm down.  He’d been on Twitter for half an hour and didn’t think he’d live through Tumblr.

It takes a lot of breathing and repeating that escaping to LA isn’t going to help before he can calm down at all to make a decision. He needs to not be alone, but he also doesn’t want the inevitable “do you want to talk about it? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? If you want to talk about it –“ he’s guaranteed to get from any of the boys.

Thirty-three minutes later, he’s wincing, standing on Ed Sheeran’s doorstep and on the receiving end of Ed’s raised eyebrow of doom. “I don’t want to talk about it?” is all he offers, and Ed rolls his eyes. He’s let inside anyway.

“You’re lucky I was here, man. I just got back an hour ago.” And yeah, he’s lucky. Ed’s _never_ in, but it still didn’t occur to him to call first. Naturally. “What’s going on, then? You never just show up; usually you call and whine, then turn up on my step.

Harry follows Ed into the living room and promptly buries himself into the couch pillows. “I got online and checked my twitter mentions for the first time in a month,” he mumbles around a mouthful of pillow. “It was a little overwhelming. I don’t want to talk about it.” He realizes that he’s said that twice now and Ed hasn’t listened, but then Ed just hums and sits down on the floor next to the couch.

“Wanna play some video games? Or just watch shit telly?”

Harry turns his head to the side to glance at Ed. “Feeling up to some FIFA?”

“Sounds great.” It doesn’t really, but Ed’s just so chill Harry accepts it. Harry distracts himself with wondering why he’s better at FIFA than he is at actual footie, with popcorn, with the knowledge that he doesn’t have anywhere to be first thing in the morning. He could do literally anything.

Until Ed just casually goes, “So, is whatever’s wrong Louis related?”

He sits up, drops his controller in indignation, and glares at Ed. “I came here to avoid the problem, Sheeran.”

“Yeah, no you didn’t,” Ed snorts. He drops his own controller, letting the game go into a pause menu, and then raises an eyebrow at Harry. “What happened? I refuse to let you brood.”

“I seriously misjudged this situation,” Harry grumbles, but he sighs after a moment more of silence. “I might have checked my twitter mentions. It’s been almost a month, but me and Louis are apparently still anyone can talk about.” He shrugs, but he knows he isn’t fooling Ed, who’s always had this sixth sense when it comes to other people’s bullshit.

“You spent, what, nine years? Nine years being all anyone could talk about,” Ed tells him, matter-of-fact. “Of course they’re going to talk. They finally know it’s actually true, and you’re not even together anymore. It’s big for them.”

“It’s not their business.”

Ed peers over at him, quiet for a moment. Harry doesn’t like the look in his eye. “When, do you think, did you get so uppity about these things? You’d finally learned to let it roll off of you, and now you spend half your time hiding from cameras.” He has a plate of nachos he’d gotten some half hour before, and he pauses to pop a crisp into his mouth.

Harry though – Harry’s _furious_ suddenly, because for all the years of friendship they have behind them, Ed doesn’t have any fucking right to tell him he shouldn’t be upset about this. It’s alarming, how quickly his blood boils. “Louis and I belonged to _Louis and I._ Not them, not the paps or the fans or even the boys.”

He doesn’t realize he’s standing, fists clenched, towering over Ed, until Ed stands, too, and takes a step back with a guarded expression. He gets it. He’s a tall guy with impressive muscles and when serious, he can look threatening, but he’d never thought he’d see the day where he was threatening his _friends._

 _“_ Mate,” Ed says, very calmly. He knows Harry wouldn’t hurt him, but he also isn’t going to let Harry yell at him. Harry feels sick. “I mean, Liam said you’d been doing a little better, but I don’t think that’s it.” Harry hadn’t even realized that Liam was talking to Ed about this, keeping him updated. He’d been under the impression Ed had only known what he’d been telling him, half-assed texts every now and again, a conversation over pints. “You need help, Harry.”

“I-“ He pauses, then just stares. “What?”

Ed rolls his eyes and relaxes. “I know you like to pretend like you’re just a little sad and everything’s okay, but you’re fucking messed up, mate. You have just drawn into himself and become this angry, bitter thing, and it’s not my job to be your stress ball. So if you need to vent, that’s fine, but don’t take it out on me. Liam said you were a little more cheerful since – you know, Louis started hanging out more. But really? I think you’re just avoiding the problem and it’s turning you into a rubber band that’s about to snap.”

He sighs, deeply, and visibly deflates. It’s very rare that Ed gives him pep talks, and he’s right. Harry knows it. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and sits down on the sofa and covers his face with his hands. He knows he’s been a little angry, he’s acknowledged that he’s bitter and sad and cynical where he used to be sunshine and daisies (according to the fans). He just hadn’t realized that it was so bad even Ed was telling him he needed help.

Ed sits next to him and pats him on the shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, but there’s a touch of warning in his tone when he adds, “But don’t make yourself okay based on Louis. I don’t know if him being in your life again is a good or bad thing, but just be careful about that.”

And he agrees, but deep down, he’s wondering if Ed’s warning is more important that he thinks. 


	10. Chapter 10

It takes a week and a half of careful reflection and, later, admitting that Ed probably had a point, before Harry turns to Liam.

They're together, watching people pass their booth in the local Starbucks, enjoying the certain amount of anonymity they are allowed as regulars who live close by. They get a girl every now and again who asks for an autograph, but luckily manage to look so casual that most people glance over them.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Liam tells him, glancing over at Harry, blinking and letting his eyelashes brush his cheeks. He's no Zayn, but still pretty, Harry supposes. "You wanna tell me why I'm here, watching you practically eat yourself up inside?"

"I wanted to talk about something," he shrugs, then bites his lip. "I was with Ed the other day. Had a bit of a panic, I guess. Just showed up at his house, having a proper strop about things." He chuckled, just the slightest bit self-deprecating. "Then, he said some things that I thought I might need to talk about."

Liam hummed. "I was actually talking to Ed recently, gave him a ring about maybe working together on a track for my new album." He gave a sideways little grin. "But, I guess you probably knew that, since you’re talking to me about something Ed said. What caused you to have a panic, then?"

"I got online."

And Liam, he knows better than anyone else how intense that can be. His wince is telling enough. “People are being pretty shit, huh?”

Harry managed a wry smile. “It’s alternating between getting in my business and harassing me for it. I could remake my fortune if I got a dollar for every tweet I have telling me I should get back together with Louis. It’s like none of them understand I’m an actual person with a life of my own.” He shakes his head, snorting to himself. “I love them, I do – our fans made our career. But Jesus, sometimes they need to look at the big picture.”

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Liam says softly, and puts a hand over his where it’s sitting on the table.

Harry shrugs, because now that he’s done freaking out about it, he can admit to himself that he should have known, should have seen it coming. Their fans are loud and unapologetic and he knew they’d either love or hate his admission of his and Louis’ relationship, but god, for the first time in a long time, just seeing all those tweets had made him honestly hate the words Larry Stylinson. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though. It’s something Ed said.”

Liam nods, waiting patiently for him to elaborate, because that’s just the kind of person he is. He’s got a temper, but when Harry needs him, he’s always been there. Patient, understanding Liam.

“He said if he didn’t know if Louis being in my life is a good or bad thing,” Harry says after a few incredibly long moments of being unsure if he really wanted the answer. “And I started thinking about it, and I can’t tell. Some part of me will always want Louis, to be with him. But there’s another part that can’t get over everything. That feels like I need him to survive, and Ed said something about making myself okay based on Louis’s presence in my life, and he’s _right_. I just don’t know.”

Liam looks vaguely impressed for some reason. “Ed’s a smart guy,” he says, almost conversationally, and, well, Harry knows that. He’d known that long before they met, when he was still a kid listening to his EPs on repeat, trying to figure out why this random bloke’s lyrics made him feel like he was both falling apart and coming together. Ed had always had a strange perception of things, a way with words and thoughts and people that Harry had never understood. “And, I don’t really know how to answer you. Because he’s right, Haz. You can’t base your being okay on Louis, and I think that’s what you’ve been doing for a long time.”

Liam goes very quiet, a nibble on his lower lip giving away that Harry might not like what Liam has to say next. He’s right.

“Three years is a long time to never properly get over someone,” his friend tells him at last, and Harry’s fists clench, one around his coffee cup. “We all thought you’d, you know. Get over it. You didn’t, though, and none of us wanted to say anything, because we didn’t want to upset you.”

“Who says I haven’t gotten over him?” Harry says, even though he’s lying to Liam and trying to lie to himself. Liam isn’t having it.

“Mate, you’ve barely seen Ed in the past few years. You’ve barely talked to him outside of texts – and that’s true of almost all your friends. You’ve barely seen each other, and yet he can still tell you’ve been fucked up about Louis. That says a lot.” Liam doesn’t looked quite impressed with him, and his blunt words express that. He takes a sip of his own coffee.

“What did you tell him?” Harry asks quietly. “He said he’d been talking to you about me. What did you tell him?”

Liam leans back, sighing. He puts his cup down. “I update a few people every now and again as to how you are. I talk to Niall once a week, since I know you don’t keep in touch as well as you should. I talk to Ed, because he’s friends with all of us even if he’s closer to you. So yeah, after we got collaborating talk out of the way, he asked me how you really were.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Harry’s eyes are squeezed shut. He doesn’t want to see Liam’s sympathy or pity or irritation at his childishness. His head is bent, hair obscuring his face.

“I told him the truth, Harry. That you’ve been pretty shit, but that things have gotten a bit better lately. I told him how you and Louis are sort of getting on again. I told him that Lou’s coming to our weekly dinner. I told him that you seem better, with Louis around, but only sort of. I just said you were acting a little more genuinely happy sometimes, that you were faking it less with the kids and Z and I.”

“Ed doesn’t think I’m actually getting better.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not, either,” Liam snorts, leaning forward and nudging Harry’s head up. “Haz, you need to expand again. Go out, maybe. Or, date or something. You’re narrowing your world down to Louis and your relationship with him again, and that’s not healthy.”

“Date,” Harry repeats flatly, and Liam doesn’t even flinch. Liam is clearly done with his shit for a day, and Harry feels a little bit better because of it somehow. He lets some of the tension go, and calms down. “I wouldn’t know who to start with.”

Liam smiles a little, clearly relieved that Harry didn’t just blow up at him. “You don’t have to like, make a plan. This isn’t something that you go into just for the sake of therapy. But, if someone asks you out and you think you might like it, go for it instead of automatically shutting them out.”

“So, the next person who asks me out…”

Liam shrugs. “Try saying yes.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Harry cracks a little smile. “Mate, if we go by that logic, I’ll be on a date with Nick by the end of next week. He’s the only person who hasn’t seemed to totally given up on me being sociable. He asks me out with these flirty undertones at least once every other week.”

Liam throws his hands up, but he’s snickering. “Look at that; you actually have friends, even if you ignore them half the time!” Harry would bristle, but Liam is clearly teasing, and he just kind of chuckles a little abashedly. “Let Grimshaw take you out, mate,” Liam tells him cheerfully, leaning over to clap him on the shoulder. “And if you get laid, so be it.”

“Shut _up_ , Liam,” he groans, but Liam laughs and he makes a mental note to say yes to the next invitation out, even if it’s just to make a visible effort to Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case that wasn't a subtle enough hint, there will be hints of Harry/Nick coming up soon. So. Fair warning. Still a Larry endgame, don't worry!


	11. Chapter 11

That Thursday night, Harry arrives before Louis or even Liam, curled onto a sofa with Perrie. The kids are in Jaqui’s room playing, and Harry’s on the verge of dozing off. He doesn’t know where Zayn’s gone off too – probably to cook, or something, but Harry hadn’t been following his goings on very well.

He watches Perrie for lack of better things to do – he doesn’t really want to browse the internet today; he’s still scarred from the backlash, half-terrified of what he might come across. So, he Perrie-watches.

She’s making some sort of complicated thread bracelet at the moment, the end attached to a safety pin that’s fastened on her jeans. “Who’s that for?” Harry asks absently, turning his phone over in his hands. He’s just been holding it, but doesn’t want to open it. “Is it Jaqui’s?”

Perrie glances over at him, this pleasant, calm smile on her face that Harry wishes he remembered how to replicate. “Yeah, t’is. She saw some show where the girls had friendship bracelets, and I reckoned I just about remembered how to make them.” She lifts her knee up to show her accomplishment. To be fair, Harry’s hands are probably too clumsy for that, so it is quite impressive to him. “Think she’ll like it?”

“She’ll love it,” Harry confirms, and they go quiet again. Harry lets himself doze until he’s startled out of it, Liam’s hands heavy on his shoulders.

“Hey, mate,” Liam chuckles and leans down to kiss his temple. Harry leans into it and hums in reply, grateful for the affectionate touch. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. We still have dinner to eat, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers, half-mumble.

“Speaking of,” Liam announces cheerfully in Perrie’s direction. “Z says he’s got the food just about done. Want me to grab the kids? You two can go get the table all set up or something.”

“Sounds great; thanks, Li,” Perrie answers with her best Disney princess grin. She takes one of Harry’s hands as Liam lopes toward the bedrooms, as Jaqui and Armand begin screaming in delight. Perrie pulls him to his feet and he follows her dutifully into the kitchen/dining room. He sets his phone down on the counter as he passes it to go get plates.

“Is Louis here yet?” he asks Zayn, since he apparently had known Liam had arrived long before Harry.

“Nah,” Zayn shrugs. “Should be here in a few.” He’s quiet tonight, but keeps glancing over at Perrie with this gentle smile. Harry knows that sometimes Zayn gets reflective – sometimes, he likes to listen more and say less, and it’s one of those nights. It makes Harry smile a bit and go up to press a kiss to Zayn’s cheek. As they’ve gotten over, this easy affection had gotten less playful and just another way of expressing how much they loved each other. It used to be just more banter, but now it’s almost reflexive, instinctual. Zayn grins at him, and goes back to finishing up the taco meat.

Louis is indeed there in a few minutes, knocking on the door like he hasn’t been told several times recently that he never needed to knock. It’s still hard for him, Harry knows, to accept that things really are okay. “I’ll get it,” he says to Zayn, who shoos him off, and goes toward the door. If his heart is fluttering a little, if his step is a little quicker, then that’s something he can keep to himself.

He opens the front door to see a beaming Louis, cheeks flushed with the cold. There’s snow in his hair, though Harry hadn’t even noticed it’d begun to snow at all. “You gonna let me in?” Louis teases, and Harry grins, backing up and gesturing grandly for him to pass.

“Glad you made it,” he says, and Louis looks over his shoulder to smile at him. It’s probably the easiest grin Louis’ given him since they’d reconnected, and Harry revels in it, before remembering and trying to school his expression into something a little more normal.

 _Louis isn’t your life, isn’t your love, isn’t yours._ He tells himself that firmly, that Louis is _just_ a friend, and manages to give him a genuine smile that’s not the gooey love-sick grin Harry’d always reserved just for him.

He doesn’t think Louis noticed, either, by the way that Louis puts a hand on his shoulder as Harry leads him to the kitchen, where Liam is just coming in with the kids.

He gives Harry a look, unnoticed by Louis, and Harry glares at him.

Jaqui wriggles until Liam sets her down, and she crowds them both, holding on to one of Louis’ legs and one of Harry’s. He grins down at her, unable to help the way he melts at the idea of a little girl hanging onto them both. He leans down to pick her up, swinging her into his arms before dipping her just a bit in Louis’ direction.

Louis looks a little alarmed, uncharacteristically quiet, when she reaches out for him, but she just chirps, “Hi LouLou!” and wraps her arms around his neck, her legs squeezing at Harry to make sure he still has a hold on her.

Louis brings his arms up to cradle what parts of her body she’s rested on him, clearly happy to use them both as support, and slowly starts to smile, this soft little grin. “Well, hello there, Jaq.” He turns his grin on Harry, like it’s still the two of them in the entire world, and Harry can’t help but smile back.

“Dinner, you two,” Perrie interrupts, effortlessly cheerful. Bless her soul.

Harry tugs Jaqui until she’s back in his arms, then goes to set her in her seat. Liam has already got Armand in his, and they serve the kids’ food before their own.

Dinner is surprisingly nice – easy atmosphere, laughing; the way it should be. Harry has missed this easy banter and conversation. It feels strange without Niall, but they’re learning to adapt. It doesn’t mean that Niall is any less important, any less part of _them_ , but they can work around his absence, and that’s important.

At least, it is easy, until his phone goes off. Liam is closest to the counter where he sat it down, and he grabs it for him, but before he hands it off, he glances at the screen.

“It’s from Nick,” Liam announces, and Harry blinks and jerks forward, across the table, to try and yank it from his hands. He keeps it out of range, grinning maniacally. “ _Are we still –_ “

“Don’t be a _prick_ , Payne!” Harry whines, lunging for it again and almost knocking over the salad Zayn had ever so artfully prepared.

“ _Are we still on for our date tomorrow night_?” he reads aloud, cackling, and Harry groans. He wonders if it would be worth it to faceplant into the damn salad. He reaches out and snatches his phone from Liam’s hand, crams it into his back pocket without looking around at the rest of the table for a second. “I didn’t think you would actually – oh my god, this is hilarious!”

But Liam is the only one laughing. Zayn looks alarmed, and then a bit uncomfortable when he glances to Harry’s left, and Perrie’s eyes are wide, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

It’s Louis’ expression that makes Harry really cringe when he finally looks to the side. Harry _knows_ that face, has seen it a hundred times. His lips are pursed together ever so slightly, eyes narrowed, and his hands have gone still, one clenched on the table, the other holding his fork like he wants to stab someone with it. When he notices Harry’s eyes on him, his face visibly clears, his voice robotically pleasant. “A date, huh? Nick must be pleased; he’s had a hard on for you since you met.”

“Louis!” Perrie hisses, glancing toward her children, and he at least has the presence of mind to look chagrined.

“It’s not like that,” Harry tells him in a low voice, and immediately wishes he’d said anything but. He doesn't owe Louis explanations, even if a part of him wishes he did. Louis has no reason to make that face, that pinched well-look-at-that jealousy Harry had always loved and hated in equal measure. When Louis just goes back to glaring, Harry wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands. He pushes his chair in with perhaps more force than necessary and leans in to press his lips to Louis’ ear and hiss, “Can I talk to you in private, please?”

He storms off without waiting for an answer, because he knows Louis will follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone reading is really going to hate me after the next chapter. Sorry... but at least it's written in advance, and will be posted in a couple of days. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance. Like, really... sorry.

It feels like his entire body responds, thrumming with energy, the moment Louis joins him in the living room, uncharacteristically quiet. He’s probably angry, but _screw_ that.

“You don’t get to do this,” Harry tells him, spinning around with what’s probably not very angry of an expression. He’s not really angry at all. He’s _agonized_. It physically hurts, to do this little dance with Louis. “You don’t get to get angry and jealous, no matter what’s going on. And you don’t get assume either.” He _sounds_ angry, and he’s almost proud of that, but Louis doesn’t look so tough and furious anymore. His arms are wrapped around himself, like he can’t keep himself warm, and his eyes are flickering between Harry and the door.

“I don’t – didn’t. Fuck. I didn’t mean to.” He makes a disgusted sound and actually _stomps his foot_. It would be funny if he wasn’t so clearly upset. “You know what? Fuck that. I _did_ mean to. Fuck you going on a date with Nick.”

“Why?” Harry asks him, incredulous, because he’s _done_. “Why do you hate Nick so much?”

“He’s a little bitch, that’s why,” Louis snapped, coming closer, his posture threatening. Harry hopes that Louis doesn’t hit him again, because he _still_ could never lay a hand on him, but he’s also not going to back down this time.

“Of all the people in this mess, _Nick_ is the bitch?” Harry huffs. “What a laugh.”

And frankly, it’s weird. Fighting wasn’t something he and Louis really did. They would argue sometimes, but when things started to fall apart, it was more alien silences and quiet, pointed comments that drove them apart.

“He’s been lusting after you since what, 2011?” Louis’ face has contorted into an ugly sneer, his words sharp and intended to hurt. “Couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of you. He could _stand_ the fact that I had you, could he? Practically hated me for the longest time.” He shoves at Harry’s chest lightly. “Never knew when to give up. But maybe it’s okay that he hasn’t, right? Because you’re into that now, whiny man-bitches – maybe you were into that the whole time.”

“Maybe I was!” he explodes, shoving Louis back, just enough that Louis gets out of his face. “Because god knows you’re acting like one now.” His hands itch to throw something, to hurt something. He curls his hands into fists and digs his nails into his palm to curb the impulse. “I hate it when you get like this,” he says, disgusted and just _done_ with the entire conversation. He goes to push past Louis, hates that they’ve gone back to this angry, uncomfortable place but without a clue of how to fix it.

Louis grabs his arm, spinning him around. “No! You don’t get to just walk out! Fuck.” He sounds almost desperate, and when they hear Armand start to cry, he bites his lip and makes an effort to quiet down. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“We weren’t talking about it in the first place!” Harry snaps. “You were insulting my friends, remember that? I don’t want to be around you when you’re doing your vicious mean girl thing, tearing down everyone in sight.”

“I wasn’t –“

“You started going in on me, too. Or did you miss that when you were just saying whatever hurtful things you could think to say?” Harry doesn’t pull away from Louis’ hands, gripping his upper arms, but his face is practically stone. He’s not always good at hiding his emotions, but it’s easier to hide this than show Louis how hurt and upset he is.

Louis’ eyes are shining, his mouth open slightly. “I didn’t mean to do… that. I wasn’t –“ He cuts himself off, but doesn’t let go of Harry. “I just got so angry.”

“You do that,” Harry agrees, quieter now. He sighs, and reaches up to wrap his hands gently around Louis’ wrists. “You’ve got to stop this, Louis. I’m supposed to be the emotional wreck here.” He gives Louis a self-deprecating smile that’s more of a grimace than anything. “You can’t do this, Louis.”

“But _you_ can’t. Go on a date with Nick, I mean.” He sounds like a child, no logic, just saying exactly what he’s thinking. It’s rare for Louis to be so unguarded, and Harry wonders at how upset Louis must actually be.

“I keep telling you it’s not really like that –“ (Even though it is, even though he _knows_ that Louis is right about Nick wanting him. Their friendship always came first, but Nick was bad at hiding his want.) “Why not? Why _can’t_ I go on a date with Nick?”

Louis eyes narrow again, and his fingers are trembling. “I don’t… I don’t _know_ , Harry. You just can’t.”

“And _you_ can’t make those decisions for me anymore,” Harry says firmly, even though it kills him, and he starts pulling at Louis’ wrists to make him let go.

Louis reacts in possibly the only way Harry hadn’t expected him to, after everything.

It doesn’t register for a moment that Louis is kissing him, that he tastes exactly the same, that he’s loosened his grip just enough for Louis to free his wrists and frame Harry’s face with his hands. His hands automatically go to Louis’ waist, wrap around him, pull him up and in. He kisses back on autopilot, like he’s starving, because _this_ is what he’s been missing all this time. Louis’ mouth and kisses and closeness.

It feels like a million things Harry doesn’t want to admit to (home, rightness, need, the same aching love he’s felt for nine years now), but right now, he tells himself that it feels like closure, because it _needs_ to.

He pulls back, and Louis leans in after him, eyes closed and leaking tears, ever so slightly. He knows what Harry’s going to say, just like he’s always known. “I should go,” Harry says quietly, still close enough for his breath to fan Louis’ face, and Louis shudders once, his eyes shutting tighter, eyebrows pulling together. His lower lip is trembling.

Harry hates to do this to him, but he can’t make himself believe that it’s healthy, and he can’t convince himself that it will work out now, without him even really trying to move on. Ed and Liam were _right_. He wants to cry himself, wants to press back in with his mouth and never let Louis pull away, but he knows that right now, it’s not going to be good for either of them. Louis is doing it out of panic, out of fear of losing him even though he’s been gone for so long. Neither of them ever really let go.

Harry can’t make himself believe that Louis really wants him back, that Louis’ not just responding to the threat of taking something he’d considered _his_ , and because of that reason alone he has to go.

He doesn’t even say goodbye to the kids, to Zayn or Liam or Perrie. He heads straight for the front door, grabs his coat, and leaves.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry’s been on his “date” with Nick for twenty minutes, and he can’t do it.

“This isn’t working,” he says aloud, tense to the point of just ripping apart, and he waits impatiently for Nick to finish his bite of dinner to reply. Nick has been his friend for so long now that Harry hates the idea of hurting him, but it would probably be worse to let this go on. “I should leave.”

Nick swallows, dabs at his mouth with a napkin, and then _laughs_. “You’re not going anywhere, popstar,” Nick tells him with a smile. “Mate, the minute you walked in I knew you were uncomfortable. I’m still not gonna let you leave. Date or no, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Harry blinks at him, then glares. “You knew this wasn’t a real date.”

Nick grins, a little abashedly, a little self-deprecatingly. “It’s been almost ten years that I’ve known you, Harry. You don’t think I thought it was a little weird that you just agreed to a date out of nowhere? Usually when I tease you about going out on dates with me it’s just a way to get you to laugh and come hang out, but you just agreed and said you wanted to take it slow. Who does that? I knew something was up.”  

And Nick is much more observant than Harry’s given him credit for. Not that he ever mistook the man for stupid, but honestly. “What if I had meant it?” he asks Nick, curious and a little off-handedly.

Nick shrugs. “Not look a gift horse in the mouth? Really Harry, you’re not this dense. Of course I’ve been interested – you’re gorgeous and we get on so well. You know that if you honestly wanted me, I would never turn you down.” He shrugs, not even embarrassed, just a little sad. And Harry did know, and Louis was right, but Harry also knows that their friendship was so much more important to Nick than that. “You’re one of my best mates regardless, so none of that really matters. What I’m more worried about is what made you say yes in the first place. What’s going on?”

Harry slumps in his chair, letting out this long breath. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, and grins crookedly at Nick. “I’m just really glad I didn’t fuck us up.”

Nick grins back. “You could never.”

“Liam was what made me say yes, by the way,” Harry offers. “Called me out on some shit and told me to say yes to somebody, to give it a go.”

“When you say ‘called you out on some shit,’ was that shit the fact that you’re still hanging onto a memory of Louis, or am I just being an asshole?” Nick asks as innocently as he can manage. His dark eyes give him away.

Harry goes back to glaring at him. Honestly, the friends he has, never letting him be. “Actually, both.” He pauses, then adds, “Asshole.”

Nick laughed quietly.

“You’re transparent, my friend.”

It’s silent for a bit, them both eating a bit more of their respective meals, and then Harry sighs. “I didn’t tell him about the interview I did,” he says softly, and Nick blinks at him. “So he got mad, and yelled at me, and somehow that turned into us trying to be civil, and including him in dinners at Zayn’s. I don’t know. We were trying to fix things, a little bit, and then you texted about tonight and he got angry – I don’t _know_.”

“It was kind of a shit thing to do, not telling him about the interview,” Nick tells him carefully, and he winces. “Like, that was Louis’ life, too. His secrets you were spilling as well. You should have told him.”

“I know that,” Harry says quietly, taking another bite to give him an excuse not to speak more. Nick sighs and puts his fork down.

“You know what I think, popstar?” Nick asks conversationally, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach.

Harry spares a glance upward.

“You need to get out of here for a while.” Nick smiles at him, a little dry but still friendly, still caring, still warm. God, Harry is so thankful to have this man in his life. “Go to LA. You have a fucking _house_ there, Harry, and I know you haven’t been there in what, a year? You have friends there and it’ll give you a break to think about things. Figure out if you really need Louis in your life, and how to go about it if you do.”

“Ed is in LA right now, isn’t he?” Harry says softly, glancing around, unsure. He doesn’t know if running is the right answer, but it feels like a good idea.

“I do believe he is,” Nick agrees, then leans in and reaches over, taking one of Harry’s hands in his own. “Listen to me, Harry. You fucked up, yeah? And this whole thing with Louis is a mess and I’m sorry that I had any part in you guys fighting.” He bites his lip, and Harry is struck by how much they’ve all changed. It’s not something Nick would ever have said a few years ago – they’ve all grown.

“And?” he asks, because he knows Nick isn’t done.

“And text your friends,” Nick finishes after a minute. “Text Liam and Zayn, let Ed know you’re coming – call Louis, and tell him you’re not just running off. Tell him what you need to, but don’t just disappear. I remember when you guys split, okay? I remember you just disappearing and everyone else being left to fill the gaps in your life, and in Louis’. And I wasn’t even _friends_ with the rest of the band.”

“You’re right,” Harry admits, feeling a little lighter just for saying it. He’s not without flaws, and he’s not without blame, and Nick always was such a good person to screw his head on straight. “Thank you,” he says honestly. He squeezes Nick’s hand.

“Always here to fix you up, popstar,” Nick says with that smile, and for all that Harry had been dreading this “date,” he is so glad he came. “Just promise we’ll spend some time together when you get back. I wasn’t kidding about missing you.”

“I promise,” he says.

The rest of dinner is quiet and comfortable, and when Harry gets up to leave, he gives Nick a long hug before he heads back to his car. They drove separately on Harry’s insistence, and it makes a lot more sense now that Nick didn’t argue, or at the very least wasn’t more confused.

“I’ve got to go buy a plane ticket,” he tells Nick before they part, and Nick rubs his back.

“Good on you. Go on, then,” he says, and pulls back. “Careful, and all that.”

Harry pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket, throwing another smile over his shoulder as he walks away. “Always am.”


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing he says when Louis picks up the phone is “I’m not running away.” Although his flight is supposed to leave in thirty minutes, so it seems like it is, just a little bit, on his end.

There’s a long silence, and then Louis’ hoarse voice comes – not angry, like Harry would have thought. Just tired and hurt and confused. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I’m going to LA for a bit, and I don’t want you to think I’m just running away, or hiding. We need to talk about some things, Louis, but I can’t do it now. I need to think and breathe. I’m going to spend some time with Ed in California, and then I’ll come back, and if you want, we can talk then.”

“Harry,” Louis says, and his voice sounds thick, like he’s choked up. “I’m so-“

“No,” Harry interrupts. “Louis, listen to me. We’ll talk about it when I get back. And until then, there will be no hard feelings. I’m not mad, or anything, and I won’t be.” He wonders when the wall Louis put up between them fell, when Harry remembered how to be the strong one. He’s been such a mess for so long that it’s strange to him.

“Okay,” Louis answers quietly. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

He’s already inside the airport, juggling a bag and the phone. He’ll admit, he put off calling Louis for a while. He’d texted Liam and Zayn the day before, but Louis… he’d taken his sweet time with that one. Ten minutes and he'll be on a plane. “A week at most. I won’t be long. Just hang on till then. Spend some time with Z, if he’s not too busy, or Li. When I get back, I have a little thing, finalizing promo stuff for when my EP comes out at the end of the month, and then I’ll get ahold of you. I’ll make you dinner and we can talk.”

“Okay,” Louis repeats, but he sounds a little calmer, a little less on the verge of tears. “By the w-way. I saw the photos of you and Nick. And I. If you’re really happy with him…” He sounds miserable again and Harry wants to facepalm right in the middle of the airport.

“Louis. I already told you it’s not like that. It wasn’t a date. As a matter of fact, Nick was the one who told me I needed to tell you before I just ran off and disappeared on you. We’re just friends, and Nick knows it. Whatever photos you saw, it’s probably not what it looked like.” He gets in line, and knows it’s nearly time to end the conversation. “No more right now, okay? I need to get on this plane. We can talk about everything when I get back.”

“Yeah,” he hears, and then a long sigh comes through. “Goodbye, Harry.”

“Bye, Louis,” he says softly, and hangs up before he can get drawn into another conversation.

He gets on the plane with minimal hassle, and spends most of the flight dozing and listening to music. When he lands it’s dark, almost one in the morning, and Ed is still waiting for him when he gets off, a beaning covering his hair and a hoodie pulled up. It’s so early that there’s really not _that_ many people around to recognize him, but there’s still a couple people with phones out, who startle and start aiming when he comes into view.

“It’s fucking early,” Ed tells him, disgruntled, but Harry just smiles a little and drops his bag to give him a hug.

“I know. Thanks for coming to get me,” he answers, and Ed gives him that small smile he does when he’s vaguely amused.

“Yeah, yeah. Am I taking you to your place in the city?”

Harry nods. “You want to come stay, too? I could really use the company.” Ed bites his lip as he leads Harry out toward the car he’s been renting.

“I’m kind of hanging out with a friend while I’m in town,” he says instead of giving a real answer.

“Invite the friend. You know I have the room; I don’t mind.” He examines Ed’s expression when the other man just sighed and narrowed his eyes.

“The friend is Taylor Swift,” he elaborates, raising an eyebrow. Harry has some very quick flashbacks to a lot of bad memories, but comes out of it with the memory of Taylor’s genuine smile and quiet advice that had come at the worst part of New Year’s week 2012.

“Invite the friend,” he repeats. Ed gives him a curious little smile, but pulls out his phone to send Taylor the address of Harry’s LA house and tell her to meet them there.

Ed keeps up a steady stream of casual conversation on the way there, studiously avoiding the big question of why Harry is in LA at all. For all his whining, he does really appreciate Ed’s friendship, which had come out of nowhere when he was still young and naïve and just strengthened when he grew up into what he’s become.

When they pull up to the house, there’s a blonde figure sitting on his stoop, scrolling on her phone. She glances up when they pull up in the driveway, and grins when Ed stumbles out of the car. Harry steps out with little more grace and she turns her smile on him. He returns it.

“It’s been a while,” he says, a little chagrined, remembering how they parted last time they spent any real time together. They’ve seen each other in passing, but it’s really been almost seven years since they’ve had any sort of real conversation.

“Yeah, it has,” Taylor agrees, but then she stands and comes forward to wrap her arms around his neck, heels helping her match his height. She’s already a tall girl, but the shoes are enough to let her easily fit her chin over his shoulder. “Welcome back to LA, Harry,” she greets him, and she’s absolutely lovely.

She looks so much happier than she used to. There’s a ring on her finger and she’s dressed comfortably, the way she always has. Her hair is long and flowing again, but there’s less of the country princess there used to be when she last wore it this length. She’s missing the trademark red lipstick, face clean of makeup, and there are freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. If he wasn’t so gone on Louis, Harry thinks, there was no way their publicity stunt would have remained strictly professional. She actually reminds him of Louis, just a little bit, in attitude, but he puts the thought out of his mind.

“Happy to be back,” he responds, and she pets his face a little before pulling away. This woman is comfortable in her skin, happy. Harry would be envious if he wasn’t so pleased that things are finally working out for her. “How is Maeko?”

Taylor smiles widely, matching his pace as they go to catch up with Ed, who’s waiting impatiently by the door. “They’re doing really good,” she tells him. “Really well. Sometimes I forget you know each other, actually,” she adds, and laughs. Harry had done some writing for Maeko’s album, before they had switched over to acting, and while he never spent a lot of time with them, he definitely took the time to send them a quick tweet congratulating them when they announced their engagement to Taylor.

“I wish I knew them better,” Harry tells her, and it’s not just a platitude. “The three of us should have dinner or something next time I’m in the States, or you’re in the UK.” It’s a subtle way of emphasizing that he really does want to be friends, and Taylor’s expression tells him that she feels the same way.

“We will,” she agrees readily, and when Harry lets them all into the house and flicks on the lights, she pushes past him to explore, laughing when he calls after her in mock affront.

“Glad you’re here,” Ed says casually when he follows Harry in at a much more subdued pace, and Harry nods.

“I think it’ll be good for me,” he replies, and Ed claps him on the shoulder before going to catch up with Taylor. 


	15. Chapter 15

Harry thinks – has always thought – that sometimes, a good friendship will just _click_. All of his closest friends were like that, in a way that Harry knew from the get-go that he could trust them and love them and have it all work out. He’s been lucky.

Taylor agrees with him on that front, her head on Ed’s thigh, and Harry’s head on her stomach. Her hips are kind of bony, but he’s found some cushion in between her ribs and pelvis, and he’s quite comfortable. Neither of them have said anything about how their companionship seems to just work, but he’s sure that Taylor finds it just as comfortable as he does.

“Your life is like a bad movie, Harry Styles,” she says thoughtfully, turning her head to rub her cheek against Ed’s jeans. Ed looks like he might be ignoring the both of them, but he’s carding a hand through Taylor’s hair anyway. Ed had tuned out halfway through Harry’s explanation of why he’s in LA, but not entirely.

“Relationships are hard,” he grumbles mournfully. “Everyone else has it so _easy_. Just look at Zayn and Perrie – at you and Maeko. But I got the complicated relationship.” He huffs to himself, then at Taylor when she snickers at  him unapologetically.

“I don’t know how to break this to you, but every relationship has its complications. We’re _celebrities –_ jesus, everything about our lives are complicated. And for the record, me and Maeko didn’t have the easiest time, either.” She pokes him gently in the cheek and he turns on his side, looking up at her face with a pout. “Get a little perspective, Harry – we’ve all got drama. It’s not the end of the world, and it’s not like you can’t work on it.”

“Nine years seems like a long time, too long to just give up on a relationship,” Ed says quietly, shrugging. So he _had_ been paying attention. Good old Ed.

"I just don't know how to go about it," he says after a long silence. "And I don't know if I can trust us, not after how it ended last time. I want to, but I don’t know if I can.” He shrugs, his shoulders briefly digging into Taylor’s side. He wonders idly how it looks – he’s a grown man with muscle and broad shoulders in spite of the last remnants of his baby face, and he’s curled into himself, laying on top of a tiny blonde girl. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Valid reasoning,” Taylor remarks, but she doesn’t seem to have anything helpful to say. He turns to Ed with a pout, hoping for something. Ed just gives him a half smile and he sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. This is one of those things you kind of have to figure out yourself.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” he huffs.

“You’ve said.”

He glares at Ed, but it has no heat. “I just want to be happy. And I want him to be happy. Once upon a time, I wanted us to be happy together, and sometimes I still do – but I’m scared it’ll hurt too much.”

“Will it hurt more than nine years of hiding your relationship?” Taylor asks, eyebrow raised. She’s pushed herself up on her elbows to look down at him. The incline makes his head slide down onto her hip. “More than loving him from the sidelines while he had his thing with Eleanor? More than making him watch us pretend to date? Harry Styles, everything hurts. The question is if your boy is worth it.”

He wants her to be wrong, to let him keep denying himself the hope. The problem is, she’s _not_ wrong. Loving Louis has hurt like hell, but Harry never would have traded him for anything before. What’s different about this time? When did Harry stop fighting for Louis?

“He’s worth it,” he says, and he means it. If nothing else in the world is worth it, Louis is. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t keep trying. “And I’m an idiot.” He covers his face with his hands, digs his palms into his eyes and groans from his own stupidity.

“You’re not an idiot.” Ed sighs. “Look, mate. I’m the last person who’s going to tell you to run back to Louis without a care in the world. You really want to know what I think you should do? I think you should go to fucking therapy, and maybe try being friends with Louis again, if that’s what you really want.”

“I’m not going to therapy,” he responds with a frown. “I don’t want or need it.” He knows, somehow, that Ed brought the therapy up because of his anger issues, but honestly, he thinks that’s one thing that will resolve itself the more he starts to open up again. “But.” He pauses to chew at his lower lip. “You might be right about the whole friends thing. I mean, we were going to try, before we had that big fight at Zayn’s. But now I think we finally get why we need to do it. We’re not nothing to each other, and we never will be.”

“All true,” Taylor agrees, and she sounds almost proud of him. “It’s not really my place to say this, but man, I would hate it if you gave up on him. 2012 was a long time ago, but I remember how good you were for each other. You spent all our ‘dates’ talking about him. He called you constantly and texted you to make sure you were alright. He sent _flowers_ to my _hotel room_ for you.” He remembers that – how awkward it had been already, trying to make small talk and pass the time until he could reasonably sneak out, and how quickly he’d gone red when the flowers had arrived at her door. “He loved you as much as you loved him, and I highly doubt that’s changed. If you’re still crazy about him, he’s definitely still crazy about you.”

Harry laughs a little at that hint of rose-tinted glasses Taylor has held onto throughout the years. He knows now the world doesn’t always work like that, even though he’d always thought he and Louis would, but… something about her enthusiasm and firm presentation of the idea as though it were fact made him want to listen to her.

“I want him to be,” Harry tells her, because he does, and that cinches it for him. He still wants Louis to love him, and he wants to learn how to love Louis again (assuming he ever stopped, which he really, really hasn’t).

He wants to make it work.

Ed’s expression makes it seem like he doesn’t entirely agree, but Harry has his mind made up, and Ed’s sigh shows that he understands that.

“When are you going home then?” Ed asks, and Harry shrugs, but he’s starting to smile again. The lost feeling he’s been dealing with has _finally_ eased. He feels like he knows what he’s doing again.

“I’m not leaving early,” he answers, but in his head, he’s counting down the minutes until he’s home.

He’s always thought that a good friendship just clicks, and when Taylor grins down at him, he knows that it’s true. He’s a lucky man, he thinks. A very, very lucky man.


End file.
